The Call To Return
by hiddlesbatchedforever
Summary: Sherlock and John adopt a kid called Hamish, and John gets some bad news. The gist of the story is John and Sherlock get separated, and a warning the ending may be angsty. Who knows.
1. Chapter 1

John Watson had just gotten off the phone from a very stressful conversation. He put down the receiver and glanced over at Sherlock. His husband, Sherlock Holmes, was finally sleeping peacefully on their shared bed, and John tired his best not to disturb him. He crawled slowly back into the bed, being careful not to wake Sherlock, but Sherlock stirred and mumbled tiredly

"John? What was that?" John assured him it was nothing, and they both went back to sleep.

The alarm clock blared extra loud the next morning, and neither one of them wanted to get up. But Sherlock had a case to solve and John had to get to the surgery to work. Mary had quit her job since their divorce. John had realized he would much rather be with Sherlock than Mary, so he called it off. He worked alone now, and the days felt longer than ever. Today especially, because he couldn't stop thinking about the news he had gotten last night. He realized he would have to tell Sherlock sometime, but for the next year, it would be OK for Sherlock to be in the dark.

When the long workday was over and John got back to Baker St., Sherlock was sitting in his armchair looking thoroughly pleased with himself. John figured it must be because he solved the case. But he didn't recognize this look; it looked, well, different. John asked Sherlock what it was about and Sherlock bounced out of his chair and turned to face him.

"I was wondering, John, What do you think it would be like to have kids?" John's mouth fell open.

"What? Kids?" John asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes. The couple that was murdered had a baby boy. This kid has no parents, and the orphanages are really tough in this area. What do you say we adopt him?"

John had no idea how to reply to that last question, so he sank into his own armchair. They talked about it through the afternoon, through diner, and all the way into the night. John thought it would be a good opportunity, but with the news, there was a chance things would go horribly wrong. But he couldn't tell Sherlock the news yet, either.

In the morning, John had come up with an answer, but before he could tell his husband, he needed to make some calls. He talked with many people for over an hour, and when he was done, he was ready to tell Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I've made my decision."

"Oh really? What do you think?"

"Yes. Let's get ourselves a kid!"


	2. Chapter 2

John decided to take the day off work, and Sherlock, yes, Sherlock Holmes, was going to take the day off from solving a case. They left immediately to pick up the child, and when they got him, they learned his name was Peter. Neither Sherlock nor John liked the name very much, so they gave him the nickname Hamish. They took baby Hamish home and began a new chapter of their lives.

John went shopping for diapers, a crib, and other baby essentials, while Sherlock stayed at home and moved all of his weapons so Hamish wouldn't hurt himself. Lestrade and the whole team at Scotland Yard came over to congratulate them, and Lestrade, Molly, Donovan and even Anderson brought gifts for Hamish. John was too happy to be thinking about the phone call, and it slipped out of his mind for a wonderful few hours.

John was noticing how much Sherlock had changed since they got married, like the way he would actually sleep and eat, and how he was the one who brought up the idea of a kid. John thought it was nice how much he could care. It was evident that Sherlock had strong feeling towards Hamish, because Sherlock would always sit on the floor with him, make jokes and play peek-a-boo. Sherlock would sometimes sing to Hamish as he was going to sleep, and they would cuddle all the time. John felt no jealousy, because Sherlock had plenty of time for him, too. One thing John was worried about was that Sherlock was not getting any casework done, and as he once said "Without the work, my brain rots!"

Sherlock was getting slower and slower at understanding complex problems, and he only helped Scotland Yard with a few cases a month. Lestrade became worried for him, along with John, Mrs. Hudson and all his other friends. He would only focus on the baby and John, and it was causing his amazingly powerful brain to shut down. One day, John decided that enough was enough. He gave Hamish To Mrs. Hudson to babysit, while he dragged Sherlock out to a crime scene.

Sherlock took a lot longer than usual to go through all the evidence, but he was still amazing at connecting the details. It made John smile when Sherlock started going through his deductions. It was great to see him back at work. By the time Sherlock had solved it (It was a fairly simple one, it took less than a day), his brain was moving quicker, the light in his eyes shone brighter, and he just seemed happier. He went to play with Hamish, but the games were much more exciting and Hamish was much more interested in them. Sherlock went back for another case the next day, and soon enough he was back to his usual self.


	3. Chapter 3

A year had passed since they had adopted Hamish, and John realized that now was the only time to tell Sherlock about that phone call a year ago. He couldn't bring himself to do it, so he arranged a meeting with some people. He talked, begged, and even cried, and in the end, he got fairly good news. He could postpone telling Sherlock until even later. John worried constantly about the problem, and he felt as though it was eating him up form the inside out. He'd read advice, and it said to tell someone, but if he told Sherlock, his expression would eat him from the outside in. He was glad, anyway, that he could spend more time with Sherlock, as they were, happy.

Hamish is 2, and he's begun to put sentences together. He calls John Dad and Sherlock Father. He's grown up to be a beautiful toddler, with shining blue eyes, curly brown hair, sort of like Sherlock's (even though they're not related) and a medium skin tone. He's very intelligent, he's able to solve simple problems. Sherlock had found the perfect balance between work and family, so he was always busy, either having fun solving a murder, or spending quality time with his family. John loves the new person Sherlock has become, more sensitive and caring, and he fells like he is partly responsible for the evolution.

The family's doing great, but John has a lot on his plate. He has to juggle the horrible news from the meeting, the endless work, and making sure that Sherlock works enough to keep him functioning. Hamish keeps him levelheaded, though. He looks at his child and thinks _I will do anything for you, and you love me. You keep me right._ John barely gets any sleep, and when he does, the nightmares of war come flooding back. At least he has Sherlock sleeping by his side to calm him down.

He recently started going back to his therapist. He thought that he could tell her, and maybe get a load off his chest. She was not very surprised by the news, but she felt bad for him since he had just started a family. They talked through it, and John did feel better after visiting her. She couldn't do much to help him with his stress, but he found it much easier to deal with now that someone else knew. Still, he cried at night when he was sure Sherlock and Hamish were asleep. He cried long and hard, and when he was done he cuddled up next to Sherlock, vowing to never let go. But he always had to let go in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Life was simple and uneventful for another year. Hamish turned 3 and had some new firsts, John and Sherlock were there for all of them, and the relationship between the two adults was comfortable. When John was feeling bad or stressed, Sherlock would help out and calm him down, and vice versa. Sherlock kept working cases, John kept working at the surgery, and when they were both away, Hamish would stay with Mrs. Hudson. Everyone was happy, and for the first time since the phone call, John forgot about the news.

One day, as the family was getting ready for the day, the phone rang. Sherlock picked it up, and a very formal voice asked

"Is Mr. John H Watson at home? I need to speak with him." Sherlock called for John to come to the phone, and John came running.

"Yes, this is John Watson. How may I help you?"

"We are calling in regards to our meeting last year. You do remember, don't you?"

"Of course I remember. So, what needs to be discussed? Have we agreed on a date?"

"That's just it, John. Will you come and meet us at Speedy's Café tomorrow at noon? This must be done in person."

They agreed to meet up and talk. Sherlock shot John a questioning glance, since it was obvious from John's face that it was not good news. John once again lied to his husband and said

"Don't worry Sherlock, nothing big. I just need to meet with some people tomorrow."

Sherlock figured that it was good enough, and carried on getting Hamish ready for preschool. John smiled as he watched Sherlock carefully fill a ziplock bag full of cheerios and put a juice box in Hamish's bag. They all left together, although John had to take a separate cab, since he was going the opposite direction. The long cab ride would give him time to think about his meeting tomorrow.

The next day came slowly, as John got no sleep at all the last night. The family got ready, as usual, but John knew things could change forever, depending on the outcome. As Sherlock and Hamish got into a cab, John turned to walk into the Café under their flat. There he saw two men in suits sitting at a small table, and he went to go talk.

John left the Café with tears welling up in his eyes. Things would never be the same. His world came crashing down around him. John sat on a bench for hours, just crying and thinking about how his life had turned upside down. He tried to think of how he was gong to tell Sherlock, but it was too hard. He kept on picturing Sherlock's reaction to the news, and it was enough to break John's heart.

A few hours later, John decided to walk back to the flat. Sherlock would be home by now, and wondering where he was. John trudged slowly up the stairs, a fresh batch of tears forming already. He waited outside the door for a few moments, knowing once he went in, he had to tell Sherlock. The door was pushed open, and the first thing John saw was Sherlock sitting in his armchair with Hamish on his lap.

Sherlock looked up at John's face with a smile, but his expression changed immediately once he registered the tear streaks, the puffy eyes and the sad, defeated posture of John Watson. Sherlock put Hamish down on the chair and stood up.

"John. What's wrong? I may not be the best with sentiment, but you can tell me."

John collapsed in Sherlock's arms, leaving them together in a tight embrace, with john shaking with every breath. He whispered into his soul mate's ear.

"Sherlock. I… I'm being shipped back out to war."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey! Posting this a day early 'cause I have a thing at school tomorrow and won't be able to update. I would love some suggestions on what should happen/how to improve. If you have any ideas, please review!**

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"Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. The army is… is shipping you… you back out to Afghanistan. Why are they doing that?" Sherlock barely managed to get out through his shock.

"I was taken out because I had an injury. I'm healed now, so I have to go back."

"OK.. ok John. W… When are you leaving?" Sherlock began to stutter, he was so shaken.

"I have a week to get ready. Next Monday is when I leave. I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I am so very sorry." John looked up at the perfect cheekbones, the watercolor palate of his eyes, everything amazing about his husband. He was going to lose it all. In one week. In just 7 days, everything would be flipped upside down.

They spent the week as close as they could. Sherlock took a break again from crime solving, and John was allowed the week to get ready, with no work obligations. They kissed every time they passed each other around the flat, and Sherlock had even gone for a bit of a butt-touch while John was making lunch. That move made them both giggle, and Sherlock pulled John in for an intimate kiss. Every part of their bodies touched, and John's fingers intertwined in Sherlock's curly brown mop. The chemistry the two had together, the way they moved and knew exactly what the other one wanted, was a sign of how they were meant to be.

John pulled away from the kiss when he felt Sherlock's shoulders start to shake. Tears were welling in the consulting detectives eyes, and his face was turning red.

"What's the matter, Sherlock? Is everything alright?" John anxiously questioned.

"How could anything be alright, John! You're going out to war! You could be… killed." He whispered the last word, as if the world would end if anyone heard him say it.

Grief briefly flashed through Sherlock's face, and even though it was only there for a millisecond, John noticed it immediately and he felt the pit of sorrow that he was trying to suppress coil up again through his stomach. He felt nauseous, and quickly went to sit down. He looked up at Sherlock and noticed that he hadn't moved at all. The only motion from his body was the trembling shoulders, and the little droplets of water falling off the sharp cheekbones and onto the floor. After taking a deep breath, Sherlock tried his best to gather himself and went to make tea, as if nothing had happened. That's how they would do it, pretending nothing happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, sorry about the late posting. My internet at home was being strange so I couldn't get on to the website. Now it's all good, so enjoy!**

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John's eyes fluttered open a few minutes before his alarm was due to go off. The air around him was still and quiet, still not knowing what would be happening that day. Clothes were put on slowly and calmly, as John tried to remain composed. Sherlock had not gone to bed last night, obviously unable to sleep. Instead, he spent the night playing his violin lightly and making many batches of tea, keeping his mind off the main point of his worries. John found him in the morning, dozing in his armchair with a mug of cold tea in his lap. Too many sleepless nights recently had finally caught up with him, and now he couldn't stay awake. John put his hand on Sherlock's knee, and the napping detective snapped upright, trying to look as if he weren't sleeping.

"John!" he yawned "you're up!"

"Sherlock, you look awful. Get some more sleep while I prepare breakfast, ok?"

Sherlock usually would have resisted, but he was already half asleep, so he let himself be dragged up to John's bed. Before going back down, John went to wake Hamish in his room. He warned the little boy to be quiet, and brought him downstairs. The look on the kid's face was so innocent, so pure. He knew nothing about what was happening, and would likely never understand it. With this thought, John busied himself and made eggs and bacon. Today was an important day, worthy of a nice meal.

After a bit of a late breakfast, Sherlock, John and Hamish got ready to go out. John hailed the cab this time, because Sherlock was busy 'not crying'. The cab took them to the airport, where John pulled his big suitcase and Sherlock nervously carried the smaller carry-on bag and their small son. When they entered, they saw the Scotland Yard team and Mrs. Hudson waiting inside. Together they went to have a coffee, since it would be the last time in a while that any of them would see John. The conversation was light at first, but then it began to turn to what would be happening where John was going, the war.

Tears pricked in almost everyone's eyes as the time grew nearer for John's departure. Everyone hugged, and promises were made. John promised everyone he would do his best to keep in touch, and Sherlock promised to take care of the child. Mrs. Hudson promised to take care of Sherlock, and to make sure the baby was never in any danger. Lestrade promised to keep Sherlock busy on cases, and Anderson and Donovan promised to never bring up John's leaving to get a rise out of Sherlock. In the last minutes, all the held back tears were shed and all the goodbyes were said.

John walked through the security gates, knowing that he might never see any of those faces again. The whole flight was a blur, although over half was spent red-faced and teary. People shot him questioning glances, but he was too preoccupied to notice or care. The sound of life was dulled and his reflexes were slowed. All of his defenses were down. Reality seemed like a far away universe.


	7. Chapter 7

**OMG I am so sorry! The story completely slipped my mind, I'm sorry for updating so late. My dad was visiting, so I didn't have much time. Next week may be a bit late as well, since I have to catch up with writing, but it shouldn't be too long after Sunday.**

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Reality came crashing back down when the plane wheels hit the tarmac in Afghanistan. Memories of his previous service swamped him, and he felt himself shaking and sweating. He collected himself and got off the plane, and met up with the military force leader at the arrivals deck.

"Captain John Hamish Watson, correct?" His voiced boomed with an air of professionalism.

"Correct, sir." John's voice shook, feeble and small compared to that of the tall, buff man standing with him.

"Let's get going, then, sir." The taller man turned on his heels and marched out, with John timidly following him, unsure of how to proceed.

Back in London, Sherlock hadn't eaten for the whole day. He was sitting on the couch, staring into space and absentmindedly stroking Hamish's hair. There were no more tears for Sherlock to shed, as he had run himself dry a few hours ago. Hamish was getting restless, but Sherlock didn't notice. When he crawled off Sherlock's lap, he didn't really notice. The hands that stroked the child's head fell limp at his sides. He acted as if the world around him was dulled, but he felt as if all of the emotional pain was sharper and pointier than ever.

At some point, Mrs. Hudson came in and made Sherlock some tea. Upon leaving, she decided it would be best for Hamish to come with her. Sherlock barely registered the action, and when he finally got up, he went into a frenzied panic, wondering where Hamish went.

When Mrs. Hudson came back down with the young child, Sherlock was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. He was curled up in his armchair with his hands gripping his shins. More tears had found their way to his eyes and his breathing was ragged. The slender frame rocked back and forth slightly, looking completely and utterly broken, and it was the first time Mrs. Hudson realized that Sherlock does care, he does feel things and he is human. Suddenly it was revealed how much emotion he has, and that John and Hamish were the only people in the world that mattered.

Mrs. Hudson, burdened with the sight of Sherlock at his worst, could think of only one thing to do. She left Hamish and placed a hand on the man's trembling shoulder. He leaned into the touch, and Mrs. Hudson proceeded to wrap her arms around John's oatmeal colored knit jumper that Sherlock had desperately put on. They stayed like that a while, Mrs. Hudson silently comforting the teddy bear of a detective.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys. I am SOOOOO sorry about the whole not-updating thing. It's kinda a long story, but I'm a writer, so here goes. So I moved from Beijing to Canada, but my computer (with all of my stories on it) belonged to my school. I had to turn in my laptop at the end of the school year, right? Luckily, I had remembered to back up my hard drive. What I didn't remember to do was bring my external hard-drive in my luggage. So anyway, I had to wait for it to come in the shipment, and then look for it in the millions of boxes, then get an actual new laptop, then get the internet sorted, etc. Anyway, I'm all sorted now, but I might not be updating as frequently, because I have less time to write. So that's the update on my life, now go read the chapter.**

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Neither John nor Sherlock felt like they would get any sleep that night. They both got into bed, but it didn't feel right without the other lying next to them. Tears dampened both of their pillows, each droplet filled with longing for the missing half of the dynamic duo.

John's night was cold and dreary. Rain pattered against the roof of the small hotel he was staying at before he was shipped out to his first duty station. Since he had served previously, there was no need to go through the training again. He lay in his bed thinking about the previous experience, and how close that bullet was to killing him. He shut his eyes to keep out the visions of what fates could become of him, but the images burned into the back of his eyelids. Horrible death after horrible death flashed before his eyes, and his body began to shake. He didn't mind so much the first time, but now he had a family and people he cared about, who would mourn his loss.

His mind raced, taking control and going through strange horrific scenarios. He pictured Sherlock's face when he found out that John had been killed. He imagined what the bloody remains would look like if he got blown-up. The worst part was, he didn't care so much about dying himself, he just felt like it would be one massive betrayal to Sherlock, who had finally opened himself up and began loving someone. He felt like it was his duty to survive, because if he didn't, Sherlock would never love again. Ha wasn't sure what would become of Hamish if he died, Sherlock would probably forget about him. Some part of him felt like he wasn't going to make it back this time, and the thought was destroying him. He fell asleep to the thought of explosions ripping him apart. Needless to say, there were plenty of nightmares.

Sherlock's night was just as horrible. First of all, Hamish wouldn't stop crying because he missed John, and to be honest, Sherlock couldn't either. His head ached from crying, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop. His bed was empty and cold without John, and there were no soft sounds of his breathing. Everything was wrong, and there was nothing that he could do to make it right. He too was thinking about John's possible fates, as much as he tried not to. The image of the flat without John in it was too much to bear, and Sherlock made himself get up and walk to his secret stash of sleeping pills. John didn't know about them, and Sherlock was trying to keep his usage down to when he really needed it, like now. The pill tasted bitter on his tongue, and he swallowed it dry, without bothering to get himself any water. He lay back down on the bed, and he felt the pill numbing the harsh reality of the situation around him. The last thing he heard that evening was Hamish yelling for John.


End file.
